


Second Best

by Dazzledfirestar



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage - Held down, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma takes a good look at her relationship with Scott and the ghost of his dead wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Best

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the marveloustales fic fest on Livejournal.

I’ve often wondered what it would be like. What is it like to not know what your lover is thinking? I suppose if I were bound by some moral code, I could just stop looking and I’d know, but where’s the fun in that?

 

He doesn’t wonder things like that. Believe me, I’ve checked. In all his brooding, not being able to know what the other person is thinking has never so much as scratched the surface. The safety of the teams, the students, his failures as a father, his insecurities about leadership, which, by the way I think are ridiculous, given that he’s been leading since he was a teenager; all those things are covered. But I imagine that having been with two of the most powerful telepaths on earth, he’s used to having someone digging around in there from time to time. Xavier probably tapped in too, now that I think about it. That would explain quite a bit.

 

I had a suspicion at one point that maybe it was a fetish. Maybe he got off on having his mind read, not just in our more intimate moments, but all the time. I dismissed that fairly early on. Well, okay, maybe not completely, but that isn’t the main thrust of the compulsion. If it wasn’t sexual, what drove him to telepaths? Then, the truth of the situation sunk in for the first time.

 

I can tell you the moment it happened. I had expected to wake up to sunshine, birds twittering out my window and my head resting comfortably on his shoulder, quite possibly also with his hand on my ass. Although I did get all those things, I also got Logan growling at us from the end of the bed. While the two of them rolled around on the front lawn in full alpha male glory, it hit me. It wasn’t that he was attracted to both of us because we were telepaths. He was attracted to me because _she_ was a telepath. Something about my powers reminded him of her.

 

You’d think a revelation like that would send me running to the hills, but a quick check through his mind revealed something else. He didn’t know what he was doing. Even when he woke up beside me screaming her name, deep down he believed it would all go away eventually. I so wanted to believe that.

 

There are times when I can block it all out. Forget that, deep down, he’s thinking of her. But then something happens. Something triggers a memory.

 

When we went to the Savage Land I thought to find a new start, away from everything connected to her. It was going so well too.

 

I was looking out over the land, taking in the sights, Pterodactyls and all. He came up behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me against him, letting me know both mentally and physically that he wanted me. “Emma, come to bed.” His lips brushed against my shoulder as he spoke. I simply nodded and followed him in.

 

He was gentle, he’s always gentle. “Scott, please…” His brow crinkled a little. “I’m not made of glass.”

 

A smile I’ve never seen on his face before grew. “Alright, Miss Frost. If that’s how you want it.” His lips crashed into mine and I gasped. There was no hesitation on his part, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask him to kick things up a notch. His lips moved from mine, down my neck, biting gently and licking. His teeth grazed my collarbone and I moaned, my back arching slightly. “Patience,” he chuckled at me. Patience my ass… As if he’d read my mind, his hand slid under me, grabbing that very part of my anatomy. I cried out, more from the shock than anything else and he chuckled again. His little giggle fit didn’t last. He decided to put his mouth to better use, sucking on my nipples, each in turn. I moaned, writhed under the skills of his tongue. And I’ll admit, I whimpered a little when he moved on.

 

I didn’t have much time to complain. His wonderful tongue had a goal in mind, and it, like he, seems to be very goal oriented. Again, I was given no warning. His tongue played along my sex, dipping in here, licking there, driving me to distraction. I reached down, tangling my hands in his hair. Then he stopped. In one quick movement, he grabbed both my wrists and held them behind my back in one hand. Once he was satisfied that I was firmly in place, he went back to his previous activities.

 

My legs were shaking, my back arched fully off the bed. “Scott… oh… god…” I managed to get that much out before an intense orgasm rocked my senses and stole my voice. He pulled back, but only long enough to let go of my hands and reposition himself. I was still trying to catch my breath when he thrust into me. I cried out, the sensation of his filling me completely wringing another climax from me.

 

“Come on, you’ve got more stamina than that.” He chuckled again. I always knew there was a smug bastard behind that boy scout routine of his. And I was starting to like the smug bastard. He drove into me relentlessly, hard and fast. I was hoarse from screaming his name by the time I felt him twitch inside me.

 

“Scott… please, come for me.” I dug my nails into his back as my own body reached another peak. A few more thrusts and his cries were echoing mine.

 

He rolled off of me, pulling me into his arms. My head rested happily on his shoulder, my fingernails tracing patterns on his abs. They really are fabulous. I kissed him softly and got up, getting my hair brush and straightening my now sexed up hair. I sat in front of the vanity mirror, brushing my hair, when it hit me. “Scott?”

 

“What?” He sat up, brow crinkled again.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just… you reminded me of… something… just now.” He lied back down, running a hand through his tousled hair.

 

Something. That was our code from ‘you just did something Jean used to do’. I frowned into the mirror. That was the moment, I knew… I truly knew I’d spend the rest of my days with him being second best. Sure, he chose me over her, but her latest death and rebirth and death again routine took a toll. I just stared into the mirror for a long time. I could almost make out her ghost in the room drifting over him as if to say ‘no matter what you do, he was mine first and always’. I put down the brush a little harder than I had to.

 

“Emma?”

 

“Sorry. The brush slipped.” Yeah… right. Something flashed in my mind. An old movie… Hitchcock maybe, where a man turns his new girlfriend into a mirror image of his dead love. It shook me.

 

I wonder if I should just dye my hair red. Would that make him happy?


End file.
